DIAGNOSIS MAYHEM
by Ann3
Summary: What could be worse for Steve than being laid up (yet again) at Community General ? Well, that would depend on his room-mate... please R & R, and I hope you enjoy !!


DIAGNOSIS MAYHEM

Written by Ann Rivers ann.rivers@virgin.net

Spoilers: The story itself takes place just after the season eight episode On The Beach.

Reference also made to Pressure to Murder, All American Murder, Murder On The Run, Murder Two, Food Fight, A Sleeping Murder, Bringing Up Barbie, Frontier Dad, Man Overboard, 

Unluckiest Bachelor in LA and Being of Sound Mind

DM and its characters don't belong to me – more's the pity. I'm just borrowing them for a bit, 

so that Mark can exact his promised revenge on Steve…

Special thanks to Sharon, who enabled me to overcome my writer's block without the need for fountain pens, letter openers or black scorpions… :o)

What could be worse for Steve Sloan than being laid up (yet again) in Community General ? Well, that would depend on his room mate…

Of course, some would say that he'd already suffered enough pain and embarrassment for one day.

That he deserved at least a little sympathy for bravely risking his life in the line of duty. _Again_…

Of course, he'd be made commissioner before getting anything of the kind from this lot…

Wishing, not for the first time, that he'd stuck to his childhood ambition to be a train driver,

Steve Sloan looked up into three highly amused faces with, all things considered, remarkable dignity.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you…?" he muttered, glaring at each grinning face in turn.

"Oh, yes…" Mark nodded with what, to his visibly peeved son, was a distinct lack of fatherly concern.

"Very much so…" Amanda agreed with the same flippant disregard for the Hippocratic Oath.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad someone is…" Steve went on, folding his arms as he continued to glare at them.

"I mean, what's the deal here…? I run my butt off to catch some bag snatcher, at great risk I might add, only to end up in here with half a ton of plaster on my leg, and _this_ is all the sympathy I get…?"

"Well, if you will insist on throwing yourself over parked cars to make an arrest…" Mark retorted, 

eyeing his son with a mixture of amused exasperation and still lingering concern.

"Yeah, what is _that_ about…?" Jesse asked in what, Steve knew, was highly dubious innocence.

"I mean, you're not on Frontier Dad now, Steve… and don't forget, you're a year older now too…"

Pausing for effect, Jesse moved safely out of Steve's reach before delivering the inevitable punchline.

"Of course, you were pretty long in the tooth even then, so…"

Ducking to avoid the inevitable pillow, he regarded his latest patient with a suspiciously twitchy pout. 

"Now Steve, is that any way to thank the doctor who so carefully and skilfully tended to you…?"

"Skilfully tended…?" Steve echoed, glaring at said apparently skilled doctor in polite disbelief.

"Jess, it's only my lower right leg that needs to be in a cast ! And instead… well, just look at it…!"

Hoisting his cumbersome leg upwards, Steve then favoured Jesse with a less than impressed glare.

"For crying out loud, Jesse…! There's enough plaster on there to sculpt another Venus de Milo !"

Faced with such unjust criticism, not to mention a thickly plastered leg being waggled before it, 

Jesse responded to both challenges to his doctoring skills as only he could.

"For the hundredth time, don't exaggerate…" he shot back, straightfaced through years of practice. 

Following the path of another neatly dodged pillow, Jesse then turned back and tutted in disapproval.

"You know, if you don't stop throwing your toys around, you won't be getting any supper…"

Helplessly laughing now, Mark could only wonder at his young friend's powers of self discipline. 

Even under a full strength glare from Steve, that butter wouldn't melt expression refused to waver.

Then again, he fondly reflected, Jesse had spent years perfecting that look of deadpan innocence.

And, more often than not, it had been at the expense of his long suffering, adoptive big brother.

All joking aside, his heart had almost stopped when he'd seen Steve being stretchered into the ER – 

shock matched only by the relief at Jesse's report that he'd suffered no more than a sprained wrist, 

yet another ruined pair of jeans and a thankfully uncomplicated break of his right upper shinbone.

With that relief had come an irresistible urge to have some fun at his invalided son's expense.

Some wonderfully ironic payback for when Steve had landed him with the home help from hell. 

Watching this familiar bickering match between Jesse and Steve, that plan now took a new and…

well, yes, he had to admit, a truly diabolical twist.

All he needed now was someone else's help. A co-conspirator with the same twisted sense of humour.

Needless to say, he knew just who that someone was…

"Okay now, boys, that's enough…" he chuckled, stepping bravely between the two combatants – 

wryly noting heartfelt relief on the face of one, and plaintive disappointment on that of the other.

Happily anticipating that neither reaction would last very long, he then turned back to address his son. "After such an action packed day, Steve, I suggest you take it easy and rest that leg…"

"Oh yeah, sure…" Steve retorted, unable to resist one last dig at Jesse as he tried to get comfortable.

"Yeah, like I have much chance of doing anything else with half a ton of plaster on it…!" 

"Again with the exaggeration…!" Jesse sighed, sadly shaking his head while Mark and Amanda,

seeing Steve's hand tighten round yet another pillow, made a strategic retreat towards the door.

"Not to mention insults…" Jesse went on, seemingly oblivious to the threat of further pillow warfare.

"Unfair ones too, I might add… and ones which I now treat with the mature contempt they deserve…" 

Choosing his moment, he then poked his tongue out at his accuser before darting through the door. 

Smirking at the muffled thump that followed, he met two indulging looks with one of pure mischief. 

"You think he's cranky now, wait till I go in with the bedpan…" he said with a slyly knowing grin. 

Regardless of his own plans for revenge, Mark winced in sympathy for his unsuspecting son.

After days of teasing at being thought too cute for TV, the tables had turned back in Jesse's favour. 

And, needless to say, Jesse Travis was determined to make the most of every tormentable minute.

Which was rather good news for one Sloan… rather bad news for another…

Perhaps sensing the mischievous chaos to come, a still chuckling Amanda then headed for her lab – promising herself a discreet visit to room 218 later on for what promised to be one heck of a show.

No doubt thinking the same, Mark was soon laughing again as he patted Jesse's shoulder.

"Well, I guess after all that teasing you've had from him, you're due some payback…" he said at last, regarding a still mischievously gleeful Jesse with a much practised smile of fatherly exasperation.

"Although that full length leg cast _is_ one of the meanest tricks on Steve that you've ever played…" 

Pausing for a moment, he then cast his suddenly awkward young friend a reassuringly playful grin. 

"Now, if you're all through with your revenge on Steve, I'd really appreciate your help with mine…" 

Puzzled by his tone, not to mention such an odd request, Jesse looked quizzically up at him.

With Mark's hand resting on his shoulder, he listened intently as they walked down the corridor. 

A minute later, Jesse, too, had one hell of a mischievous grin on his face…

By the time they'd reached the doctors' lounge, however, that gleeful smile had utterly disappeared.

"Aw gee, Mark, couldn't you think of anything else…?" Jesse pleaded to his highly amused mentor.

"I mean, missing out on our slop is no great loss, but… two _days_…? Two whole days without _food_…?"

Jesse glanced down at his stomach for a moment before turning sadly plaintive blue eyes towards Mark. "Couldn't you think of anything less sadistic…?" Brightening suddenly, he then added hopefully,

"What about saying that I'd been hit by a truck…? I've done that already, remember…?"

"Oh yes, I remember…" Mark agreed, still laughing as he considered his young friend's suggestion. 

"I also seem to recall that you were the liveliest coma victim that I've ever seen…"

"Yeah well, I was bored just lying there…" Jesse retorted, shuffling his feet before adding defensively,

"Besides, my stereo was at stake…"

Laughing too much to reply, Mark then placed a gently cajoling arm around Jesse's shoulders.

"Jess, if we're going to pull this off, we need to make your illness something believably minor, and… well, let's face it, we all know how much you love your food…" 

Needless to say, Jesse was all ready to argue. Then he considered his defence more closely. 

Of the four of them, he'd been the only one to finish last night's dinner of BBQ Bob's finest ribs.

And of the four of them, he'd been the only one with room to scavenge for leftovers...

Left now with very little in the way of defence, Jesse sighed while staring morosely down at his feet.

Jeez, faced with such overwhelming evidence, not even Ben Matlock could clear him of this one. 

Taking full advantage of his young friend's silence, Mark then offered Jesse a consoling smile. 

"Okay Jess, look… if we make it _minor_ food poisoning, then… well, we're only talking _one_ day…"

With Jesse still far from convinced, Mark thought for a moment before playing his trump card.

"And don't forget, we're only _pretending_ that you can't eat…"

Just as he'd hoped, Jesse glanced up at him with both mischief and interest bright in his eyes.

"Hey, that's right…!" he enthused, rapidly warming back to Mark's plan as he grinned and nodded.

"And while Steve's down having therapy on his wrist…"

"I can smuggle you in the occasional coffee and donut…" Mark finished for him, grinning too.

At Jesse's politely meaningful look, Mark laughed and held up his hands in appeasing surrender.

"Okay, you little hustler… make that a pot of coffee and a whole big bag of donuts…"

Fondly imagining what kind of bargaining power that look had bought his young friend as a child,

Mark then regarded his co-conspirator with one last persuasive smile.

"So then, Jess… do we have a deal…?"

Much happier now with the terms of Mark's plan, Jesse grinned back at him and finally nodded, growing suddenly thoughtful as he glanced intently at his watch before heading briskly for the door.

"You're still on call…?" Mark asked, clearly puzzled as he watching him move away. 

He really should have known by the grin on Jesse's face that his young friend was up to something. 

Sure enough, Jesse had been laying down a few contingency plans of his own.

"No, I'm clear… in fact my shift ended two hours ago and I _was_ going to go home…" he replied, 

his grin widening as he snatched up a candy bar which had been unwisely left in his appetite's path. 

"But since I can't say when I'll get a decent meal again, I'll be at BBQ Bob's till you need me…" 

Watching him go, Mark could only chuckle while wryly shaking his head.

"Just try and leave some for your customers, Jess…" he sighed, still laughing as he set off on rounds.

For all his earlier complaints over Jesse's doctoring skills, Steve was soon feeling rather happier – 

thanks, in no small part, to the doting attention of his rather attractive, _extremely_ attentive nurse.

Thinking that being confined to bed had its good points after all, Steve smiled as he watched her go – 

the smile widening as he settled to enjoy two more bonuses of this latest stay at Community General.

A generous plateful of savoury meatloaf, his favourite treat from the hospital cafeteria. 

And the chance to watch his eagerly awaited Lakers game in the rare luxury of peace and quiet.

So when his door swung open just before a vital drop shot, he couldn't help but groan in frustration.

On recognising his visitor, however, all thoughts of meatloaf and ballgames instantly left his head.

"_Jesse_…?"

Slumped in a wheelchair, a distinctly rueful, hospital gowned Jesse Travis grinned weakly back at him.

"Hey, roomie, how ya doing…?"

"Roomie…?" Steve echoed, trading startled glances between his new roommate and his father, 

who was now gently settling a feebly protesting Jesse into bed.

Before either could reply, however, Jesse suddenly groaned while clamping a sickbowl under his chin.

Steve's next question would, needless to say, have been what was wrong with his friend.

The succession of retches and splutters from the neighbouring bed pretty much settled that query – 

and with Jesse still rather indisposed, it was left to Mark to settle the other.

"Yes, it seems our Jesse needs to get himself a refrigerator with a decent thermostat…" he said at last,

casting his patient a suitably chastising glance before turning back to reassure a still anxious Steve.

"Don't worry, son… it's just a rather nasty stomach upset, and Jess'll be just fine in a couple of days… 

so while we get him re-hydrated and stabilised, and until he can keep his dinner down instead of up, 

you've got yourself a roommate…"

Recovered now from his shock, Steve just nodded while offering his friend a commiserating smile.

"Well, at least you can be grateful for one thing, Jess…" he said at last, nodding towards his meal tray.

"Since you hate the stuff so much, at least you won't be missing out on mealtimes…!"

He may have said it as a means of consolation, but Jesse clearly didn't see it that way.

All he saw was the base of his sickbowl as the hospital's cafeteria received another somewhat unjust vote of no confidence.

Wincing in slightly nauseated sympathy, Steve cast his suffering friend an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Jess…"

"'at's ok – okay…" Jesse croaked, managing a weak grin while gingerly rubbing his stomach.

Hiccuping slightly as he collapsed back into his pillows, he then groaned and screwed up his eyes.

"S – See if I ever get burritos f – from that snack shack again…!"

Still wincing, though at least with some relieved amusement now, Steve just shook his head – 

so missing the concerned frown which had appeared on his father's face.

In an odd reversal of reactions, it was now Mark who was looking rather worriedly towards Jesse.

He'd known that Jesse would play the role of ailing, suffering patient to the absolute hilt, but this…

Mark had assumed that first bout of rather theatrical retching had all been part of Jesse's routine.

Now though, seeing the distinctly icky evidence in Jesse's sickbowl, and his unnatural paleness,

he realised in some dismay that this was no act.

So when Steve said that he needed to use the bathroom, and with Jesse clearly now genuinely ill, 

Mark didn't know who to tend to first. 

Fortunately Steve solved that dilemma, waving away his father's hand as he eased himself out of bed.

"It's okay, dad, I can manage…" he insisted, although his efforts to stand upright suggested otherwise. Fumbling one of his crutches under his sound arm, he then nodded towards a still suffering Jesse.

"Really, I'll be fine, dad… no, you'd better stay here with Jess… make sure he's okay…" 

Hobbling carefully round his bed, Steve paused to give his young friend's shoulder a consoling pat,

grateful for the weak grin he received in return before moving cautiously on into the bathroom. 

The second that Steve was out of earshot, Mark turned his now genuine attention towards Jesse – grateful that some colour had returned to his face, if only through a deepening blush of embarrassment. 

All concern aside, Mark couldn't help but smile as a still sheepish Jesse picked at his gown. 

As Steve had once wryly observed, Jesse Travis could find trouble and cause chaos in an empty room.

A rather unfortunate trait, of course, but… well, it ensured that life around him was rarely dull.

And it was a trait that his adoptive family could only love him all the more for having. 

"So then, Jesse, this snack shack which we'd apparently do well to avoid…" Mark said at last,

hard pressed not to laugh now as Jesse's face turned an ever deeper shade of scarlet.

With no choice now but to come clean, Jesse sighed while dredging up a surefire sympathy winner.

"Well, I – I kinda got to thinking…" he said at last, favouring Mark with his most plaintive smile.

"If I was gonna get sick… well, I could hardly implicate my restaurant, or risk its reputation, so… well, instead I – I stopped off at this burrito shack near to my place and… well, now I kinda…"

"Wish you hadn't…" Mark concluded, regarding his young friend in now genuine sympathy.

Resting a hand on Jesse's forehead, finding it unnaturally warm, he then frowned and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Jess… if not for this crazy joke on Steve, this wouldn't have happened to you…"

"Hey, don't worry, Mark…" Jesse assured him, with the puppy dog loyalty that was his and his alone.

"Really, I'm okay… it was just a bad burrito that… that…"

The words then abruptly trailed off as Jesse winced, his hand scrambling frantically for another bowl.

"Aw, no…! Mark, I - I think I'm gonna be…" 

"Sick…" Mark sighed, watching his prediction come true in quite spectacular fashion.

Answered by another plaintive groan, Mark could only stand and watch as Jesse continued to heave, offering what little comfort he could until the stream of coughs and splutters finally died away.

He'd need tests, of course, to confirm his first diagnosis, but for now Mark's concerns lay with Jesse.

Still dazed, Jesse could offer little protest as Mark gently removed the IV plaster from his hand – 

only a muffled yelp when the needle which had been meant purely for show bit into his skin.

"I'm sorry, Jess…" Mark said softly, keeping Jesse's hand gently still as he taped the needle down.

"But if this _is_ genuine food poisoning, then we have to…"

"Treat it for real…" Jesse finished for him, recovered enough now to attempt a feeble, rueful smile.

"So – So I guess this means no coffee and donuts…?"

Despite his concern, Mark couldn't help but grin back as he gave Jesse's hair a gentle, fatherly ruffle.

Even in the midst of feeling lousy as hell, it seemed you just couldn't keep a good doctor down.

Especially when there were mischievous plans afoot.

"But I can still bug the hell out of Steve while I'm in here… right…?" Jesse asked after a slight pause,

squinting up at him with such eager hope in his eyes that Mark could only nod through his laughter.

He was still chuckling when Steve came hobbling out of the bathroom a few moments later.

Thankfully oblivious to the ongoing conspiracy against him, Steve grinned back as he joined them, clearly relieved to see that Jesse was smiling now, looking rather better than a few minutes before.

That relief was short lived, however, as Jesse groaned and feebly reached for yet another sickbowl.

Mark, too, was looking worried, again niggled by guilt that his plan had backfired at Jesse's expense.

But then as Jesse turned his head towards him, he caught sight of just the trace of a mischievous wink, and Mark had to smother a smile as Jesse augmented his suffering with another, Oscar worthy groan.

Operation Payback, it seemed, was back on. And even as he chuckled quietly at the chaos to come, Mark couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Steve, who was still hovering anxiously at Jesse's side.

This was one detective who… well, didn't have the slightest clue of what he was in for…

Fearing that if he stayed any longer, he might give the game away, Mark then headed for the door.

On reaching it, he turned back and smiled as he watched Steve in the role that suited him so well.

Even the dramatic climax to his ballgame now took second place to looking after his 'little brother'.

An hour later, however, that supply of big brotherly concern and sympathy had more or less run out.

Shortly after Mark had left, Jesse had drifted into what Steve had assumed to be a quiet, restful sleep.

Once sure that Jesse had settled, he'd returned to his own bed to catch the game's highlights on TV. 

At first, he'd taken the muffled splutters in his ears to be a fault of some kind in the TV's headphones.

Only when he removed the 'phones to check them, and those splutters increased in both volume and vicinity did he realise their true source.

Glancing to his left, where Jesse lay curled up under a heap of bedclothes, Steve just sat and stared – astonished that such a skinny little body could produce such an incredible volume of noise,

and fascinated by the variety of whistles, mumbles, snorts and snuffles that made up Jesse's repertoire.

This wasn't just snoring. No, this was more like a concert of vibrating upper and lower palates.

And it seemed that Jesse had chosen that night, of all nights, to put on a command performance.

When his increasingly irritated pleas of "Shut up, Jess…!" met only with an all too brief respite,

Steve realised that drastic times did, indeed, call for drastic measures.

Reaching across his bed, he snatched up one of his nearby crutches and, very gently and carefully,

used its end to give his once more soundly snoring room-mate a cautious poke in the ribs.

After a few more gentle prods, Jesse sighed and tried to swat the source of his annoyance away. 

Rolling cautiously onto his side, he then settled back to sleep again, his drowsily giggled protest of 

"Aww no, not there, Lacey, that tickles…!" met by a plaintive groan from the other side of the room.

Strongly tempted to get out of bed and show his friend what a full blown tickling attack _really_ felt like,

Steve buried his head under his bed's nest of pillows, hoping to find some refuge there.

A few moments later he surfaced again, casting a mischievous glance towards his sleeping friend.

Well, he thought dryly, it always seemed to work in the movies… and I've plenty of pillows to spare…

Closing his hand around the uppermost in the pile, he took aim then lobbed it carefully sideways.

Evidently the playful delights of Jesse's dreams included having a pillow land gently on his chest – and Steve wasn't sure that he wanted to know what those dreams entailed as Jesse sighed once more, chuckling happily as he squeezed that pillow tighter while wriggling onto his other side,

Still, on the plus side, Jesse then seemed to settle into a deep and, more importantly, silent sleep.

Breathing out a contented sigh of relief, Steve closed his eyes and gratefully settled into his pillows – unaware that Jesse Travis was not only still wide awake himself but convulsing with silent laughter.

Under cover of the room's dimmed lighting, and with his back now turned to Steve to hide his face,

Jesse lay quietly, choosing his moment while he listened for the telltale change in Steve's breathing.

Roughly guessing the moment when Steve would think that he was finally going to get some sleep,

Jesse let out a heartily loud moan – then gleefully brought his unique orchestra back out for an encore.

Steve was moaning too, in rueful frustration as he grabbed his headphones and clicked on his TV – pulling a face as he flicked through Community General's somewhat restricted night-time channels. 

One way or another, it was going to be a _long_ night…

When Mark called in the next morning, he could easily picture how his boys had spent the night. 

Steve yawned a sleepy greeting while Jesse, looking thankfully a lot better than he'd done before,

returned Mark's smile with one that merely hinted at the mischief he'd inflicted on his room-mate.

Mark quickly bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing as he saw the gleam in Jesse's eyes.

Their mischievous revenge on Steve, it seemed, was only just beginning…

"Well now, boys, and how are we feeling this morning…?" he asked, still admirably straight faced – 

that self control coming under serious threat as Steve pulled a face that silently said it all.

"Nothing that a decent night's sleep wouldn't cure…" he muttered, glaring across at his room-mate.

"The last time I heard snoring that loud was from a whole platoon of Marines…!"

"Hey, I do _not_ snore…!" came the inevitable, highly indignant response as Jesse glared back at him.

Faced with two raised eyebrows and a look that politely questioned the truth of that statement, 

Jesse pulled a face back at his friend then sighed and began an in depth study of his blanketed toes. 

"No, I just… well, I – I guess I just kinda breathe heavy, ya know…?

"Oh, I know, Jesse… believe me, I _know_…" Steve shot back, making a show of consulting his watch.

"In fact, I spent most of last night getting to know all about your… um… _kinda_ _heavy_ breathing…"

Turning to explain to his now helplessly laughing father, he didn't see the smug grin on Jesse's face – which, given his current crankiness towards his young friend, was probably just as well.

"Hey, dad, could you maybe try and find something a bit more entertaining for our night time TV…?

I mean, much as I just _love_ to watch good old Jon and Ponch roar down the freeways on their bikes,

a whole night's worth was a little bit _too_ much biking excitement, even for me…"

Before Mark could respond, however, a plaintive voice chipped in from the neighbouring bed.

"Aw no, you mean I missed that CHiPs marathon on TNT…? Oh man, I really wanted to see that…!"

If Steve was surprised by this announcement, he was completely floored by what Jesse said next.

"Aw, gee, Steve, you know how much I love that show…!" he went on in a perfectly pitched whine.

"And you knew how much I wanted to see it…! Aw, jeez, why didn't you wake me…?"

Vaguely aware of his father's hastily stifled laughter, Steve chose instead to answer Jesse's question, 

in a voice that was one part politeness to several hundred parts sarcasm.

"I tried, Jesse… believe me, I _tried_… but I reckon we could have been invaded by Martians last night,

and all you would have done was roll over and snore them into surrender…!"

"Hey, for the second and, hopefully, _final_ time, I _do not snore_…!" Jesse insisted, glaring back at him – brightening again as a thought occurred to him which put his chances of recovery under serious threat.

"Hey, there'll be the second part of it tonight, though, right…? So I can watch it then…!"

Still staring at his friend as though he needed psychiatric help, Steve was about to vehemently protest. But then realisation dawned, bringing with it the hopeful prospect of a slightly more peaceful night.

If Jesse wanted to stay up all night reliving his second childhood – assuming he'd ever left his first – then that was fine with him. _Anything_, Steve thought wryly, _to avoid that 'kinda heavy breathing'_.

"Just so long as you don't start speeding round here in your wheelchair…" Steve told him sternly,

smirking at the 'killjoy' pout which Jesse then threw towards him.

"Oh yeah, and what would you do if I did, Hoppa-cop…? Write me a ticket…?" Jesse shot back – 

his smug grin fading considerably as Steve grinned benignly at him and nodded that he would.

Thwarted, if only for a few moments, Jesse then grinned sweetly while nodding towards Steve's leg.

"Yeah well, you'd have to catch me first…" he smirked, determined as always to have the last word.

While clearly enjoying the entertainment, Mark now felt some degree of refereeing was called for – although with so many insults and counter-insults flying around, it was proving hard to keep score.

With obligations on both sides, and ever the diplomat, he settled for calling an honourable draw.

"Well now, boys, we should make sure this wonderful mutual recovery continues…" he said at last, 

mentally chalking up a point for himself as, duly distracted, Steve and Jesse stared eagerly up at him.

That eagerness increased considerably as Amanda came in, wheeling a meal trolley beside her – 

and Jesse was positively drooling as he noticed two covered plates instead of the expected one.

Seeing this, Amanda grinned across at Mark while they each placed a plate on their respective trays – Jesse's delighted excitement swiftly disappearing as his lifted cover revealed a generous portion of…

"_Jello_…?" he wailed, staring up at the helplessly laughing Mark in plaintive, martyred dismay, 

then pointing across to where Steve was happily tucking into his rather more appetising breakfast.

"_He_ gets bacon, eggs and enough pancakes to build a skyscraper, and I get… _jello_…?" 

Recalling a time when she, too, had been oddly off her food, Amanda now took full and happy revenge.

"Oh, poor Jesse…" she said at last, all heartfelt sympathy but for the wicked smile on her face.

"After all these years of being a doctor, who'd imagine you'd have such a tender little stomach…?"

Glaring back at her, Jesse was all poised to retaliate. But then he saw Amanda raise her left eyebrow, realised what that no nonsense look meant – and wisely though still grudgingly changed his mind.

Taking full advantage of his reluctant silence, Amanda winked at Mark before adding innocently,

"Besides, Jesse, you know the drill for stomach disorders… fluids only for the first twelve hours,

then, provided the patient shows no further symptoms…"

"A gradual return to a normal diet… yeah, I know that…" Jesse broke in, clearly exasperated.

Nodding once more towards the goo-filled bowl in front of him, he then stared plaintively up at Mark.

"And it's not like I don't like jello, 'cos I do, but… well, jeez, guys, did you have to make it _green_…?"

"Oh, I don't know, Jess… I'd say green is very much your colour at the moment…" Steve grinned,

neatly dodging the rolled up napkin which Jesse then hurled towards him.

Not to be outdone, Steve threw it back again, then ducked once more as another flew past his head.

Sensing that all out chaos was imminent, Mark then stepped bravely in to avert further napkin warfare, while a greatly amused Amanda retreated to a safe distance and settled back to enjoy the show.

"Okay now, kids, settle down…" Mark chuckled, stepping hastily aside to avoid yet another missile.

Catching it, he then glared sternly in turn towards two identical, 'he started it…' expressions. 

"Right, boys…" he went on, smiling at two now rather nervous, suddenly perfectly behaved patients.

"I'll say this once and once only… whoever throws the next one goes to bed without his supper…"

Jesse was all set to point out that he was in bed already, and likely to go without his supper anyway – 

a meaningful if still fondly amused glance persuading him to keep that observation wisely to himself.

Instead he offered Mark a dutifully meek smile before casting another unhappy glance at his breakfast. Seeing this, and the plaintive envy with which Jesse then watched Steve tuck happily into his meal, 

Mark winked at an equally amused Amanda before offering Jesse his very best cater-waiter grin. 

"Well, in view of sir's dissatisfaction, what colour would sir like for lunch…?" he asked primly – finding it impossible not to laugh as Jesse glared peevishly back at him. 

Laughing too, Amanda stepped over to give the still sulking Jesse a motherly commiserating hug.

"Never mind, Jesse…" she said soothingly, pausing for effect while giving his stomach a gentle pat.

"Hopefully by this time tomorrow, you'll be tucking into a nice big bowl of oatmeal instead…"

"Oh, bestill my excited heart…" Jesse muttered, clearly unimpressed as he pouted back at her.

Resigned now to that morning's choice of breakfast, and ignoring the continuing laughter around him,

Jesse sighed then, still muttering, settled back to eat it with rather less enthusiasm than usual.

With peace now more or less restored, Mark now set out to ensure that same peace wouldn't last long.

"Well, Jess, I know how frustrating it must be to be stuck in here instead of the OR…" he said at last, 

trading a trace of a grin with his co-conspirator as he placed a small, gift wrapped box on Jesse's tray.

"And while your surgical skills are beyond question… well, I'd hate to see those skills go rusty…"

Guessing from Amanda's mischievous wink and nod that she was now in on their little conspiracy too,

Jesse grinned back at her while reacting with genuinely delighted surprise as his gift came into view.

"Oh, _wow_…! Operation…!" he enthused, all thought of food for once forgotten as he opened the box.

"Hey, my mom got me one of these when I was eight, right after I told her I was gonna be a doctor…!"

Happily unaware of the repercussions, Steve couldn't resist teasing him as Jesse prepared his 'patient'.

"And in all the years since then, I guess you just never got to master the art of plastering, eh, Jess…?"

Glaring at him, Jesse then grinned and, winking at Mark, deliberately flubbed his appendectomy.

*BUZZZZZ* 

While Steve's grin predictably faded in realization, that of Jesse Travis now turned evilly wider.

"Actually it was the cardio-bypass that I always kinda had trouble with…"

*BUZZZZZ*

"Then there was the fractured radius… that was always kinda tricky too…"

*BUZZZZZ*

"Of course, so was the dislocated ankle…"

*BUZZZZZ*

"And that broken shinbone was a real pain in the…"

*BUZZZZZ*

"I know the feeling…" Steve muttered, raising his voice above a three-way chorus of laughter.

Hopelessly outnumbered, he then rolled his eyes while reaching pointedly for his TV's headphones.

Pot now well and truly stirred, Mark glanced over at Jesse and slyly returned his protégé's smile – secure in the knowledge that he was leaving his mischievous recipe in very capable hands.

Clearly wishing they could stay to enjoy the show, he and Amanda then left for their respective duties – trading shrewd grins as, pausing outside the door, they listened to the sounds of ongoing surgery within. 

"You do realise, Mark, those batteries will be worn out by lunchtime…?" Amanda said at last,

guessing from Mark's wide and wicked smile that he'd thought of this already.

"Oh yes, honey, I know that…" Mark replied, winking at her while he patted his jacket pocket.

"Which is why I'll be keeping my operative supplied with _lots_ of spares…"

Laughing helplessly now, Amanda just shook her head while linking her arms snugly around his.

"And how long do you think it will be before Steve gets up and throttles him…?" she asked dryly.

*BUZZZZZ*

"Oh, for crying out loud, Jess…! Quit operating, or I'm coming over there to operate on_ you_…!"

A pause, followed a few moments later by one of Jesse Travis' notoriously impulsive challenges.

"You wouldn't _dare_…"

*BUZZZZZ*

Another pause, broken by the sound of a tapping crutch, a muffled yelp, and a deceptively pleasant,

"_Try me_…"

As a peaceful if rather ominous silence settled on room 218, Mark and Amanda traded uneasy glances.

Both knew that Steve would never actually do anything to hurt their young friend, but…

"Maybe you should go and check that your operative is still… well, operative…" Amanda said at last,

glancing worriedly towards the door and so missing the wry look which Mark cast in turn towards her.

Before Mark could reply, however, the silence was broken by the welcome sound of Steve's laughter – followed, to the relieved astonishment of both of them, by yet more sounds of mechanised surgery.

"I'd say he's doing just fine…" Mark chuckled, casting a final glance behind him as they moved away. 

Something told him that the current truce between tormentor and tormentee wasn't going to last long.

__

I'll give them till lunchtime… he thought, quietly chuckling to himself as he set out on his rounds.

__

Jess will probably need new batteries by then… assuming that he's still in one piece, of course…

For once, though, his normally spot on talent for predicting trouble was slightly off the mark.

The truce didn't last until lunchtime. In fact, it didn't even last until the end of the hour.

When they'd heard Steve laughing, both had assumed that Jesse would be enjoying the same joke.

Instead, cocooned in his bedclothes and pinned within them by Steve's weight on the side of his bed,

he'd managed a startled yelp before Steve had gently gagged him with a revoltingly cold pancake – leaving him as the captive, protesting audience while Steve had gleefully driven him buzzingly nuts.

Now, while Steve was down having physio on his wrist, Jesse lay quietly plotting his revenge – brightening considerably as that revenge appeared in the formidable form of Nurse Lotte Jonsson.

Six foot tall with a build to match, their exchange nurse from Sweden took her job _very_ seriously.

And, to Jesse's soon to be taken advantage, she'd taken quite a shine to a certain police lieutenant…

Thankfully for his sake, she saw no reason to question her patient's unusually bright smile of greeting.

Instead she simply nodded in acknowledgement while she briskly adjusted Jesse's bedclothes – tugging them so firmly around him that Jesse felt a sudden compulsion to both hide and hibernate.

By the time she'd finished, he'd slid so far under the covers that only the top of his head was visible,

the sight of him peeping nervously up at her from their hemline prompting a typically brisk query.

"You are cold, Dr Travis…? You wish for me to tuck you in with more blankets…?"

Still reeling from her last 'tucking in' and with Lotte already shaking another blanket into submission,

Jesse quickly shook his head while offering the still blanket-shaking Lotte his most distracting smile. 

"No…! I – I mean, no… thank you, Lotte, but I'm fine… no, really, I'm plenty warm enough…"

Guessing by her raised eyebrow that she was far from convinced, Jesse slid back into full view again,

taking advantage of her puzzlement at his actions to smoothly change the subject.

"I heard you're leaving us today…" he said at last, his smile now genuinely warm as he added softly, "So… um… well, have you enjoyed your time here, Lotte…?"

Clearly surprised by this sudden change in tack, Lotte then shrugged as she re-folded the blanket.

"It has been… different…" she said at last, favouring him with one of her all too rarely seen smiles.

"Some things I will miss very much when I return to Sweden…"

Seeing her glance glancing yearningly towards Steve's bed, Jesse's grin suddenly and evilly widened.

Oh, he'd pay for this later, that was for sure, but… oh boy, it would be worth it…!

"Well, we'll certainly miss you too…" he went on, barely keeping the mischief out of his voice – having to swiftly distract her once more, though, as Lotte beamed in happy appreciation.

"You wish for me to do anything else for you before I go home, Dr Travis…?"

Jesse's answering smile was one of total innocence – the gleam in his eye, however, was anything but.

"Oh no, I'm fine…" he said at last, that smile happily widening at the sound of approaching voices. 

Beckoning her conspiratorially closer, Jesse then offered her a chance he knew she just couldn't refuse.

"But after all that effort in physio, I'd imagine Steve would enjoy a nice refreshing bed bath…" 

If she was at all suspicious of his motives, then Lotte didn't show it as she beamed in eager agreement.

And Steve certainly had no cause to question her presence as Mark wheeled him into the room,

or to turn down her eager offer of assistance to his father while they helped him back into bed.

The cherubically innocent smile on Jesse's face, however… well, that was another matter entirely…

It was _that_ smile, the one guaranteed to give Steve Sloan a serious case of the heebie jeebies.

Unfortunately for Steve, though fortunately for Jesse, it was Mark who recognised that smile first.

Sensing the mischief behind it, and intrigued still further by Jesse's urgent, rather furtive beckoning,

Mark left his still blissfully unsuspecting son in Lotte's most willing hands and moved to join him – 

his eyes widening slightly as Jesse tossed back the covers and eased his legs to the side of the bed.

"I'll explain in a minute…" he whispered, indicating the towels and washbowls on Lotte's trolley. 

"Just get me into that wheelchair… and _get me outta here_…"

Guessing that Jesse's plan somehow involved his son, his equally unsuspecting nurse and washcloths, 

Mark just nodded while wryly thinking that getting them _both_ out of that room was rather a good idea. 

If Community General had had a contest for getting a patient into a wheelchair in the quickest time,

then the title would surely have gone to the rather unlikely team of Drs Sloan and Travis.

In contrast to Jesse's sudden eagerness to get out of bed, Steve was now comfortably settled into his.

While Lotte adjusted his pillows – with, Jesse noted wryly, rather more care than she'd done his – Steve lay watching the sudden activity beside the opposite bed with a half anxious, half amused smile.

"We… um… need to run some more tests…" Mark explained to his quizzically concerned son – 

and at any other time, Steve would simply have nodded and accepted his father's word. 

But then he heard Jesse's stifled splutter of laughter… saw the soap and washcloths in Lotte's hand… and realised, with horror, that Jesse was about to give the term 'clean getaway' a whole new meaning. 

"Why, you sneaky little…!" he muttered, trying to sit up against Lotte's firmly restraining hand – staring up at her in startled surprise as she pushed him back down with a slightly unsettling ease.

Destined to be bathed, whether he wanted to be or not, Steve could only lie back and helplessly watch the instigator of this little treat wave gleefully back at him as Mark wheeled Jesse towards the door – 

his increasingly plaintive yells falling on two pairs of conveniently deaf, highly amused ears.

"So help me, Jesse… when I get my hands on you, I'll be operating on you with no anaesthetic…! Now get back in here, you hear me…? Jesse…? Dad…?" A brief pause, then a final, despairing yell.

"Damn it, Jesse…! Get back in here, _now_…!"

Sadly there was about as much chance of that happening as Jesse Travis joining a basketball team.

And while Amanda, taking a coffee break in the doctors' lounge, was genuinely delighted to see him,

she'd already guessed from the broad grin on Jesse's face that he'd left untold mischief in its wake.

Mischief which, given Mark's equally wicked grin, could only mean one thing…

"Okay, you two…" she said at last, wryly wondering if she'd not left the wrong two kids at home.

"What have you done to him now…?"

Jesse blinked at her, with the look tailor made for stashing surfboards in her mortuary's body lockers.

"Done…?" he echoed, his face a study of innocence as he stared up at her out of wide, guileless eyes.

It hadn't fooled Amanda then – and, having seen it so often since, it wasn't fooling her now.

"_Jesse_…" she warned, finding it impossible to maintain her façade as Jesse risked a tentative smile.

Very few people, least of all herself, could resist those eyes and that smile for any great length of time. 

Very few people could resist her no nonsense tone either. Those who'd tried had soon regretted it.

With this in mind, and realising that a shunned co-conspirator was often a dangerous co-conspirator, Jesse then grinned back at her while easing himself cautiously out of his wheelchair onto the couch.

"Well, let's just say I've treated him to one of Lotte Jonsson's luxury bedbaths…" he explained,

much of that explanation lost in the sound of his and Mark's helpless fits of laughter.

Try as she might, Amanda was chuckling too now as she passed a mug of coffee across to Mark – Jesse's protest at his plain bottle of water effectively silenced by another 'professional mom' glare.

"Oh, I'm sure Steve is going to just love you for that…" she said at last, glancing over at Mark – 

not at all surprised to find that he was laughing too, in obvious approval of his protégé's latest prank. 

And while she couldn't help but join in their laughter, she couldn't help cautioning them either.

"You do realise that when Steve finds out what you're up to, you'll both be in _big_ _trouble_…?" 

"Yeah, I know…" Jesse admitted, his gleeful smile fading considerably as he glanced up at Mark.

"You… um… think he was serious about… well, you know, that whole no anaesthetic thing…?"

"Don't worry, Jess, I'll protect you…" Mark assured him, still chuckling as he explained to Amanda,

"Steve was so taken with that game of operation, he wants to try the real thing out on Jesse…"

"Oh, I see…" Amanda nodded soberly before, winking at Mark, she added in dry afterthought,

"Well, Jesse, you'd better hope he gets some more practice in before he wreaks his revenge on you…

because when we left you both earlier, there was an _awful_ lot of buzzing going on…"

"Yeah, tell me about it…" Jesse muttered, pulling a face at the memory of Steve's earlier revenge.

That had been bad enough… God only knew what he'd dream up as payback for this latest stunt…

Perhaps sensing this, Amanda grinned at Mark while she passed a nearby magazine over to Jesse.

"Actually there's an article on page ten that… well, just might solve your problem…" she went on, trading another smile with Mark before settling back into her chair to enjoy his reaction.

Turning eagerly to the relevant page, Jesse read through it for a moment before, raising his head again, he favoured the now wickedly grinning Amanda with a glare of sulky disdain.

"NASA is go for civilians in space…!" he announced in a suitably dramatic, Mission Control tone.

Pulling a face at their continuing laughter, he thought for a moment before glancing hopefully at Mark. 

"Hey, how tall d'you have to be to become an astronaut…?"

"The last I heard, it was a minimum of five seven…" Amanda replied, admirably straight-faced – 

an achievement sadly lost on a certain, now balefully sulking five foot six inch doctor.

Still laughing at the scowl on Jesse's face, and no stranger himself to the teasings of an older sister, Mark offered his young friend a commiserating wink.

"Don't worry, Jess… even if the worst should happen during your… um… _surgery_ with Steve… 

well, at least you'll have two skilled doctors to put you back together again…"

"Aw gee, thanks, Mark… that's helped me feel a whole lot better…" Jesse muttered, rolling his eyes.

Thinking for a moment, he then glanced up at a still laughing Mark and added a plaintive afterthought. 

"Hey, I thought you were on my side…!"

"Sorry, Jess… you're right, we partners in crime should really stick together…" Mark chuckled,

holding up his hands in mock surrender while studying his young friend in more genuine seriousness.

All joking aside, he knew that Jesse was still suffering the after effects of those notorious burritos – 

his lingering, telltale paleness not lost on the equally sharp-eyed Amanda.

"Yes, and _one_ of those partners in crime should really still be in bed…" she observed pointedly, forestalling the inevitable protest with a meaningful glare that not even Jesse dared to challenge.

No stranger himself to that no nonsense attitude, Mark didn't seem too keen to challenge it either – although he was finding it difficult not to yield as two beseeching blue eyes turned in his direction.

"No, Jess, I'd have to agree with Amanda on this… you really should be resting…" he said at last,

stoically unmoved by that glacier melting expression as he guided Jesse's chair to his end of the couch. 

Resigned now to his Fate, Jesse pulled a face before turning that woeful look back on Amanda. 

"Hey, you – you will come visit me in the ICU, won't you…?" he pleaded, clutching at her sleeve.

"I – I mean… well, after Steve is through operating on me, ya know…?"

"Of course I will…" Amanda assured him, unable to resist teasing her now decidedly nervous friend. "I'll even tell the anaesthesiologist to make sure he gives you a real good hit of nitrous oxide first…"

"Gee, thanks…" Jesse muttered, glaring up at her while easing himself gingerly into his wheelchair – making one last peeved observation as, independent to the last, he wheeled himself towards the door. "Well, at least I'll die laughing…"

Still laughing themselves at his woebegone expression, Mark and Amanda followed him out – 

both trading amused, puzzled glances as Jesse raided a white washcloth from a nearby laundry trolley.

That puzzlement only increased when, further along the corridor, the strange kleptomania continued.

"Now what do you suppose he wants with those…?" Amanda queried to an equally intrigued Mark,

each studying the crutch, roll of surgical tape and washcloth in Jesse's lap in open puzzlement.

"That's a good question, honey… though I'm not sure if I want to know the answer…" Mark replied, 

his grin widening in realisation as the method behind Jesse's apparent madness began to take shape…

Still recovering from his slightly dubious treat, Steve could have been forgiven for thinking that, sometime during the rigours of said treat, he'd somehow concussed himself on the headboard.

How else could he explain the appearance of a white washcloth being gently waved in the doorway ?

Under his puzzled, intrigued eyes, the waggling square of material advanced tentatively into the room,

the crutch from which it hung suspended following on behind.

In the time it took for Steve to glance slightly suspiciously towards his IV and look back again,

a bit more crutch had appeared… then a hand… then, finally, came a familiar, slightly nervous voice.

"Hey, roomie, you… um… wanna call a truce…?"

Justified as he may have been for finding a whole new use for that crutch, not to mention tempted, Steve couldn't help but smile as a familiar, tousled blond head poked itself tentatively around the door.

In spite of all the scrapes and mischief that Jesse got himself into, this latest escapade included,

Steve could never stay angry with him for any great length of time.

As his father had once explained, after an especially eventful, Travis-inspired April Fool's Day, annoying the hell out of their elder siblings was a special gift that was unique to little brothers – 

just as big brothers had their own special gift for everlasting patience.

Of course, Jesse Travis had the extra advantage of a puppy dog look to beat all other puppy dog looks.

And right now that look was reducing Steve's righteous indignation to helpless chuckles of laughter.

Besides, with what he now knew, he'd been looking forward to his prodigal room-mate's return…

"Sure, Jess, why not…" he said at last, relishing the fun which that knowledge would eventually bring.

Too relieved to question this unexpectedly easy forgiveness, Jesse grinned happily back at him – 

little knowing that he would soon sorely regret treating his room-mate to that bed-bath…

Covert knowledge regardless, Steve still had to tolerate the exploitation of his graciously lenient mood. 

Then again, he mused wryly, where Jesse was concerned he was already more than used to that.

Needless to say, Jesse took full advantage of this blessedly easy return to Steve's good favour – 

his admittedly entertaining comments on that afternoon's ballgame met with an agreeable smile, 

as was his selfless planning of the rest of that night's viewing. And yes, Steve had to grudgingly admit,

watching CHP's finest _was_ more tolerable when shared with such enthusiastic, non-snoring company.

Come the next morning, however, that seemingly endless patience and tolerance finally ran out.

Having survived their romantic dinner without being pursued by film crews, shot at or hit by a car,

Steve and his dream girl of a dream date were on the verge of getting all sweet and snuggly when…

*BUZZZZZ*

Coming to with a start, Steve then cast a baleful glare towards his surgically engrossed room-mate – 

thoughts of finding a whole new use for his crutches growing more tempting by the second.

All big brotherly love aside, not even Jesse could escape the wrath of a crankily woken Steve Sloan.

And for Jesse to disturb his sacred post-breakfast nap… well, that really was asking for trouble…

Still oblivious to six foot two inches of rudely awakened room-mate that now limped towards him, 

Jesse could have been forgiven for thinking that the sun had suddenly disappeared behind a cloud.

On looking up to check, he found the true cause for that sudden shadow smiling benignly down at him.

Recognition of that placid expression now caused Jesse's bright smile of greeting to noticeably falter.

It was the one which warned him that he was up to his full if rather modest height in trouble.

And with Steve now pointedly yanking out the batteries from his thankfully inanimate patient,

Jesse couldn't help but uneasily wonder if he was going to be de-batteried next.

When Steve came to sit on the side of his bed, it was all Jesse could do not to ring his alarm bell – 

realization that he was once more at his room-mate's mercy causing him to physically cringe.

This, Jesse now reflected in deepening unease, did _not_ look good…

Watching him cower under the bedclothes, Steve allowed his smile to slowly and significantly widen.

This, he promised himself with smugly diabolical glee, was going to be fun... 

"So then, Jess…" he said at last, leaning over a now distinctly nervous Jesse towards his bedside table.

"You want to tell me about this little scam that you've hatched up with my dad…?"

"S – Scam…?" Jesse echoed, glancing uneasily towards a now strategically angled bedside lamp.

Blinking from its glare, he then turned wide, worried eyes towards his still gently smiling interrogator.

"H – How did you…? I – I mean, w – what scam…?"

Unfortunately Steve had seen that wide eyed and innocent trick much too often to be fooled by it now.

Instead of challenging that innocence, however, he simply smiled while idly flexing his sound hand. 

Of course, as far as he was concerned, he was simply working some stiffness out of his knuckles.

But as far as his now seriously freaked out room-mate was concerned, it meant another thing entirely. 

"It – It wasn't my idea…!" Jesse wailed, cowering further under the scant protection of his bedclothes.

"It – It was your dad's…! I swear, all this was his idea, he just persuaded me to go along with it…!" 

Watching this masterclass in backpedalling, Steve was now struggling to maintain his stern façade.

Jeez, at this rate Jesse would end up confessing to most of his unsolved cases, if not the entire state's.

Not trusting himself to speak – if he opened his mouth, he might never stop laughing – he just nodded, giving himself time to bring that bubbling laughter under control before he smiled benignly at Jesse.

"You know, Jess, I have to admit that Lotte Jonsson really is a terrific lady…" he said at last,

buffing a newly trimmed thumbnail before favouring Jesse with a grin of pure, devilish mischief.

"Not only does she do a great line in manicures, she's as much a gossipmonger as you and Amanda…"

All set to vehemently protest at such a slur to his character, Jesse then thought better of it.

He was in enough trouble already, without making things worse for himself by denying the undeniable.

Instead he sought refuge behind another of his well honed talents – that of 'play dumb' bewilderment.

"S – She is…?" he ventured, offering Steve a smile which could easily have melted the North Pole.

For once unmoved and unmelted, Steve just nodded while absently rubbing the back of his hand – taking great and gleeful pleasure in watching Jesse squirm a little further down under the bedclothes.

"Of course, for all that, she still can't hold a candle to you when it comes to gossip…" he went on,

giving his knuckles another thorough cracking while regarding Jesse with another benevolent smile. "So spill those beans, Jess… or I'll start tickling you in places that not even Lacey knows about…"

"L – Lacey…?" Jesse stared up at him, genuinely confused, then he winced in equally genuine dismay. 

"Oh, you mean… I – I mean, from last night, when I was… oooh, boy…"

"Yes, Jesse, I'd say 'oooh, boy' just about covers it…" Steve agreed in all appropriate seriousness. 

Thoroughly enjoying himself, he then smiled and glanced meaningfully towards Jesse's feet.

"There was something else I learned from Lotte…" he went on, making a show of flexing his fingers. "Apparently the part of their body where a ticklish person _hates_ to be touched above all other is…"

Another pause as Steve turned to direct another meaningful glance towards the foot of Jesse's bed, before he looked back to regard his now visibly quaking room-mate with a truly diabolical grin.

Jesse had now slid so far down the bed that his suddenly vulnerable toes were now poking out the end. Quickly yanking them back to safety, he lay staring up at his tormentor in plaintive, helpless appeal – 

clearly torn between his loyalties to one Sloan and the mercies of an equally devious other.

Perhaps sensing this, Steve enjoyed a few more moments of gleeful torment, idly studying his nails, before offering his hapless friend a carefully pre-planned lifeline.

"Okay, Jess, I see your problem… you don't want to betray your accomplice…" he said at last, 

relishing this chance to give his frustrated actor talents more of a run than they'd had on Frontier Dad. 

After so many years of playing 'good cop' during interrogations, it felt good to play bad for a while – and judging by Jesse's totally freaked out expression, his 'bad cop' routine was going rather well. 

Allowing himself a quietly satisfied smile, he then dropped his voice to an especially persuasive lilt.

"Well, Jesse, I can only admire your loyalty to my dad, but… okay, let me put this another way…

what about the time when your accomplice… uh… _persuaded_ you to jump off a freight train…? 

A _moving_ freight train, as I recall… at great risk, no doubt, to your delicate, ticklish little person…?"

Even without the current threat to his delicate, ticklish little person, Jesse had to admit he had a point.

After spending much of that day trying to rescue Mark, he'd finally risked life and limb to do so.

And had Mark thanked him…? No, he'd told him, calm as you please, to jump off a moving train…

__

Yeah, and now I know where you get your powers of persuasion from… Jesse thought peevishly – 

wisely keeping those rueful thoughts very much to himself.

"Hey, you're right…!" he agreed, all loyalties towards Mark instantly and indignantly forgotten.

Bait well and truly taken, Steve grinned and nodded approvingly while smoothly reeling in his catch.

"Yeah, and what about that time when he asked you to get some information from that rugby team…?"

"Oh jeez, Steve, don't remind me…" Jesse muttered, wincing at the memory as he added ruefully,

"The only thing I got from that rugby team was a sprained knee and a wardrobe full of plaid…" 

Laughing openly now at the scowl on Jesse's face, Steve couldn't resist just a little more needling.

"There, you see, Jess, that's something else you can peg on my dad… your sartorial dress sense…"

Threat to his toes regardless, Jesse wasn't about to let _that_ insult to his wardrobe go unreturned.

"Oh, there speaks our expert on dress sense…" he retorted, nudging Steve away so that he could sit up. 

Once Steve had done so, and protecting his ticklish bits as well as he could, he then added sweetly, 

"What about that tasteful little pineapple number that you wore on that cruise we went on last year…?

I mean, jeez…! I'm surprised Captain Kennedy didn't toss you in the brig for breach of… yeeeek…!" 

"I'm sorry, Jess… is yeeeek a new dress code term I've not come across…?" Steve asked mildly, 

taking great mischievous pleasure in watching his friend dissolve into a squirming, spluttering heap.

Slowly recovering, Jesse glared up at him while still rubbing not-quite-protected-well-enough ribs. 

"I could report you for police brutality…" he muttered, his expression a study of martyred sufferance.

Gleefully enjoying that plaintive expression, Steve just grinned and airily shrugged his shoulders.

"And _I_ could arrest _you_ for co-conspiracy…" he shot back, raising a subtly meaningful eyebrow.

Backed neatly now into an inescapable corner, Jesse could only offer a grudging scowl in reply.

That he was currently in a very deep hole was obvious. The question now was… how to get out of it.

Oddly enough, Steve's thoughts seemed to be following a similar path as he sat back on Jesse's bed – laughingly holding up his hands to reassure his friend that, for now at least, his abused ribs were safe. 

Folding his arms across his chest, he then favoured Jesse with a deceptively benevolent smile.

"So…" he said at last, patiently waiting for his floundering quarry to grab that proverbial lifeline.

Realizing that he had no choice now but to come clean, Jesse sighed and nodded in rueful acceptance.

"Well, you remember that home help you got for your dad a few weeks back…?" he said at last – guessing from the broad smile that now spread across Steve's face that he'd already guessed the rest.

"Ah yes, the unforgettable Sudie… dad vowed he'd get me back…" Steve chuckled, shaking his head. 

Still laughing, he then regarded his rather shame-faced room-mate in genuine, puzzled astonishment.

"And in doing so, he actually persuaded you that for two days you wouldn't be able to eat…?"

"Well, no… I – I mean, yes… well, no, I guess kinda…" Jesse replied, gingerly rubbing his stomach.

Hoping against hope that Steve would miss the sudden colour in his cheeks and let the matter drop, guessing by an amused, prompting nod that those hopes were futile, he then sighed and shook his head. 

"The original plan was that I'd only pretend to have food poisoning, just so I'd get in here with you…

but then… well, obviously I didn't want to implicate Bob's, so I had lunch at this burrito place…

anyway, when I came back from that, I was asked to do this splenectomy for Dr MacKenzie, and… 

well, I'd just gotten myself all scrubbed up when… blecchh, I start throwing up all over the OR, and…

hey, it wasn't funny…!" he complained, peevishly watching as Steve almost fell off the bed laughing. 

"Aw, I'm sorry, Jess…" Steve said at last, still doubled over with the sheer, wonderful irony of it all.

"But for you to go without food for more than an hour is unheard of, let alone a whole day…!"

"Yeah, tell me about it…" Jesse muttered, grimacing a little while glancing ruefully up at his IV.

"I'm so hungry right now, I could probably eat this IV stand…"

"Yes, I'd imagine you could…" Steve agreed, growing more serious as he studied his young friend.

All joking aside, there was nothing funny about the genuine discomfort he now saw in Jesse's eyes. And, as Steve knew from his own experience, there was nothing funny about food poisoning either.

Glancing towards his bedside table, he then turned back to offer Jesse a gently cajoling smile.

"For the sake of your teeth, though… think you can manage some honeyed toast instead…?"

That won him a slightly surprised smile – and, to his relief, an albeit weary nod of agreement.

"Anything would be tastier than _that_…" Jesse sighed, nodding towards his oddly barely touched tray – 

rolling his eyes in complete disbelief as his bowl of oatmeal suddenly found a more appreciative home.

"Maybe if you added some salt…?" Steve teased, always happy to exploit Jesse's love of seasoning. Laughing at the sulky glare he received in reply, he then tucked into his bonus meal with open relish.

"Aw, come on, Jess, this stuff's great…!" he went on, clearly savouring each and every spoonful.

Licking some errant drips from his fingers, he then limped over to his bed to bring Jesse his toast,

so sadly missing the 'yeah, _right_…' face that Jesse yawned at him in response.

Instead he stood briskly buttering toast while citing the delights of Community General's cafeteria. 

"You know, Jess, once you've gotten it back again, I'm going to have to re-educate your appetite…

treat that bottomless pit of yours to some decent, good old fashioned cafeteria cooking…"

Undeterred by vague mutters of doubt from behind him, Steve grinned while reaching for the honey. 

"Hey, Jesse, it's not that bad…!" he went on, sneaking a quick bite of one of his breakfast favourites. "I mean, the meatloaf here is just out of this world… not even your own mom could make it better… and wait till you taste the chicken stew and dumplings… not to mention their fajitas and nachos…

then there's the desserts… boy, I tell you, Jess, the death by chocolate here is the best I've had… 

well, aside from ours, of course… but if you're gonna die by chocolate… well, what a way to go…

in fact, I'm thinking of asking the caterers for some recipes so we can try them out at Bob's…"

When the expected protest failed to arrive, Steve turned round to make the most of his advantage – 

hastily stifling his laughter as the cause for Jesse's uncharacteristic silence became clear.

Genuine tiredness and the trauma of that mock interrogation had led to the previously unthinkable. 

Jesse Travis, that notorious appetite on legs, had actually fallen fast asleep in the middle of a meal.

Steve's only regret was that he didn't have his camera on hand to capture this landmark moment.

Aside from its significance, it would have kept him in ribbing credit for the rest of the year.

Shaking his head with the regret of that missed opportunity, Steve limped back to Jesse's bedside – contenting himself instead with a dry, big brotherly rebuke as he studied his sleeping friend.

"You know, that's the trouble with you kids today… you just don't have the stamina of your elders…" 

Rolling his eyes at the drowsy mumble he received in reply, he then sat carefully at Jesse's shoulder, easing his injured leg to lie out straight before him while relaxing back into the nest of pillows behind.

"Ah, peace at last…" he sighed, clearly enjoying this rare chance for some recuperative rest and quiet.

Glancing down at the softly snoring bundle beside him, Steve chuckled and fondly shook his head – answering his own question while settling back to enjoy his second bonus breakfast. 

"You know something, Jess…? I should interrogate you more often…"

Still laughing, he then looked past his friend to study the computer chess game on Jesse's bed-table – 

a broad grin settling on his face as he started planning some strategic moves of his own.

Of course, planning revenge was one thing. Keeping those plans wisely to himself was quite another…

Roused by a vaguely mumbling voice, Jesse woke later that afternoon with a dream-jarring start.

Muttering in drowsy protest at having the delights of his dreams so rudely interrupted, he then stopped, turning to stare in puzzled, still sleepily indignant amazement towards the neighbouring bed.

At first he thought that Steve was simply mumbling through some delightful dreams of his own, 

which made the interruption to his 'dream date' all the more annoying.

But on listening more closely, and to his increasing astonishment, Jesse realised this was far better.

Steve wasn't dreaming so much as scheming, plotting devious counter-revenge against his father.

Sadly for him, his childhood tendency to talk in his sleep has chosen the lousiest of times to return.

For one thing, the partner in his father's mischievous crimes now sat listening avidly to every word, frowning a little as his name was also mumbled at worryingly regular intervals.

But then the frown gave way to a broad, slyly gleeful grin as Jesse reached for his bedside phone.

After a slight derailment, the plans of two equally devious doctors were now back on track… 

Minutes later, hushedly told to come quickly and quietly, Mark stood at his sleeping son's bedside, listening to his continued subconscious mutterings while hugging his sides to keep from laughing.

"Well, at least you're not wandering round asking us if we want a strawberry soda…" he said at last,

guessing from Jesse's quiet chuckle of agreement that he was rather glad for that too.

"Now if it were a donut, or even just some nice hot coffee, I might be tempted…" Jesse retorted, glancing hopefully at Mark before casting thirstily yearning eyes towards the mug in Mark's hand.

Laughing too much to argue, Mark generously surrendered his drink to Jesse's eagerly grateful hands – fondly reflecting that a mug of hospital coffee had never been so ravenously enjoyed.

Helping himself to some grapes in trade for his lost coffee, he then returned to Steve's bedside,

his eyebrows raising slightly as the subconscious plotting finally concluded.

"Oh, so you will, will you…?" he dryly enquired of his now quietening, soundly sleeping son.

"Well, now, we'll just have to see about that…"

Once Steve had settled, he moved back to where Jesse sat watching this exchange in amused curiosity. 

"See about what...?" he whispered, smiling his thanks as Mark passed him his laptop.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure I heard correctly…" Mark admitted, settling on the side of Jesse's bed.

"But I believe it concerned you and me, a couple of wheelchairs and a _lot_ of bandages…"

Already familiar with amateur mummification, and guessing by Mark's grin that he knew about it too, Jesse pulled a face while he set to work setting up his computer. 

Recalling CJ's gleeful account of why his babysitter really had been too tied up to answer the phone,

and no stranger himself to the hazards of babysitting, Mark kept his amusement tactfully to himself.

Instead he watched in quiet, gleeful anticipation as Jesse logged in to the hospital's personnel database.

"Assuming she didn't delete herself before she left, she should still be listed…" Jesse said at last, 

trading a wry chuckle of laughter with Mark while still tapping quietly through the various files. 

Pausing for a moment to check a particular entry, he then looked up at his co-conspirator and smiled, before both turned to cast twinned grins of mischief towards the neighbouring bed…

By the time Steve woke up the following morning, plans for his comeuppance were well under way –the sight of his room-mate relaxing on his bed one so natural that he didn't give it a second thought. Rather more surprising was the realization that Jesse was now dressed in his familiar T shirt and jeans,

his feet propped casually on top of an already packed rucksack.

On seeing him awake, Jesse greeted him with a cheeriness that, given the obvious cause behind it,

the still unsuspecting Steve had no cause to question.

"Hey Steve, guess what…? Your dad reckons I'm well enough to go home today…!" he enthused, 

too happy by this and the knowledge of what was still to come to be fazed by Steve's dry sarcasm.

"Well, that's great, Jess… at least now I'll finally get to enjoy some peace and quiet…!"

"Aw gee, Steve, I'm crushed…" Jesse went on, feigning great hurt as he came to stand by his friend. 

Ignoring the risk of being tossed across the room, he then pleadingly tugged on Steve's sleeve – playing the role of kid brother from hell to well honed perfection.

"Aw, jeez, Steve, you don't mean that…! Hey, come on, you gotta admit, this has been fun…! 

Now come on, admit it, you _are_ gonna miss me, aren't ya…? You're _really_ gonna miss me…"

"No, Jess, I'm _really_ gonna throttle you…" Steve retorted, neatly mimicking Jesse's kid brother voice.

Before he could actually do so, however, the door to their room opened to admit Mark and Amanda – 

the former carrying Jesse's release papers, the latter charged with the care of Steve's breakfast tray.

Both, to Steve's puzzlement, seemed to be having extreme difficulty in keeping their faces straight. 

"You know, we could hear you two bickering from the end of the corridor…!" Mark said at last,

trading just the briefest of grins with Jesse under the shrewd cover of a gentle fatherly rebuke.

Signing the final release form, he then handed it with a suitable flourish to a suitably delighted Jesse.

"Which rather suggests to me that one of you at least is fit enough to go home…"

"And you don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out which one…" Jesse chipped in brightly, 

his attempt to hijack some of Steve's breakfast thwarted by Amanda's gentle slap on his hand.

"Well, Jess, we like to keep the clues simple for you…" Steve shot back with a good natured grin – one which faded slightly when the expected Travis one liner failed to arrive.

Instead, casting one last glare towards Amanda, Jesse turned to face his friend and simply grinned.

So did Mark. So did Amanda. And the warning bells in Steve's head started to ring. _Very_ loudly…

Before he could challenge his friend, not to mention throttle him, his father stepped in to intervene. 

"Now Steve, you know as well as I do how much you'll miss Jesse's company…" Mark smiled,

not trusting himself to meet Jesse's eyes as he crossed to the door and beckoned to someone outside.

"But to keep your spirits up… well, look who we've managed to get back to take his place…!"

Seeing the widening smirk on Jesse's face, Steve was now getting an uneasy sense of déjà vu. 

The last time he'd seen that evil little grin, he'd been left to the not so tender mercies of Lotte Jonsson.

No sooner had he convinced himself that nothing could be worse than a return visit when…

"Well, hello again, you handsome son of a gun, you…!"

In a room that was suddenly filled with sniggering laughter, Steve Sloan stared in silent horror, 

his mouth opening and closing like a stranded goldfish as his new nurse breezed to his bedside.

"S – S – _Sudie_…?" he finally spluttered, too mortified to say or splutter any more.

Apparently unaware of the true motive for her return to Community General, Sudie beamed at him – 

a study of efficiency as she fluffed up Steve's pillows with a briskness that made his head spin. 

Even so, she did seem slightly puzzled by the continuing laughter of two doubled over doctors – 

two doctors who, their revenge complete, now made a smugly grinning retreat towards the door.

Even with his leg in plaster, Steve was all set to follow them – if only to exact some revenge of his own.

By the time he'd struggled out of strategically tucked in bedclothes, his chance of escape was gone.

All he could do was try, in vain, to fend off Sudie's attempts to tuck a napkin around his neck,

while the two evil masterminds behind this little surprise waved a final, gleeful goodbye.

Once safely outside, Mark and Jesse stood in a mutually supporting huddle, still helpless with laughter, 

while Amanda looked on in a show of disapproval that lasted all of two seconds before she joined in – 

each coming close to collapse as they listened to the rather one sided conversation they'd left behind.

"Now, Steve, you just lie back and relax… don't you worry, sweetie, I'll take real good care of you…

I've brought plenty of books and games with me, so we'll have just a swell time while I'm here…

now, let's see what's in the old nosebag today… oh, don't that eggs just look truly scrumptious…?

I wish I could get my eggs to scramble like that, but the darn things just always seem to burn on me…" 

A brief silence, presumably to catch her breath, followed by the inevitable, slightly sheepish apology.

"Whoops… oh dear… I'm sorry, Steve, I just can never get the hang of these darn milk cartons…

you know, your dad's right, you need to be Houdini to get into them, and… here, let me mop you up…

goodness me, you're a broad shouldered young devil, aren't you…? I can barely reach across you to… oh dear, now you're covered in eggs… you know, at this rate, you're going to turn into an omelet…!

I'm sorry, what did you say…? Yes, you're right, I think we _are_ going to need a few more napkins…"

Another brief silence, followed by the inevitable, slightly desperate yell for help.

"_Daaaaad_…!"


End file.
